Part 3: Pvt Joey Lydecker - My Brother's Keeper
by Queen's Bishop
Summary: It has been brought to my attention that part 3 of the Lydecker series has gone "missing in action." For anyone interested, here it is again...


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_No infringement on the rights of the owners of "Combat!" is intended. This story is for the enjoyment of "Combat!" fans only, not for any monetary profit by the author._

_I want to formally thank and acknowledge the huge contribution of Leslie Backus. Without her time and editing skill, this story would never have seen the light of day. Thanks also to JML for proof-reading and to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading and offering encouragement._

**Pvt. Joseph Lydecker**

**by: Queen's Bishop**

**Part 3: My Brother's Keeper (1)**

Summary of Part 2, **Family**: Lt. Hanley led Second Platoon to foil an enemy raid set to take place the following morning. Pvt. Lydecker unwittingly played a pivotal role in uncovering the Kraut plan.

With a few skirmishes along the way, it took the American line in this region most of the day to advance a little more than two miles. A halt was ordered and a make-shift field hospital and supply depot for Item, King and Love Companies were set up outside a little village that would be King Company's new HQ. A jeep from the kitchen came forward and the men were fed a quick but hot meal.

First Squad gathered in the shade of one of the few remaining trees to eat and for a few minutes of rest. Nelson and Littlejohn sat next to Lydecker.

"Hey, Joey," Billy said, in-between mouthfuls of stew, "that bread Mrs. Roachlet made sure was good."

"Dat's Rouchelette, Billy," corrected Caje as he gracefully settled near his squad mates.

Kirby plopped down beside him.

"Oh," responded Nelson. "Well, anyway, it sure was good."

Littlejohn grinned. "It reminded me of the bread my Ma makes. When she takes those hot loaves out of the oven, the whole house smells like bread for days." The big man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as if he could still capture faint traces of the yeasty odor.

Kirby rolled his eyes. With his mouth full of stew, he added to the conversation "Hey, Joey, ya oughta marry that girl. Then she could give ya them looong kisses," he smacked his lips, "an' your mother-in-law could make ya bread like that every day,"

Joey blushed as the rest of the men rolled their eyes.

"Sheez, Kirby, don't you have any table manners," asked Littlejohn.

"I got plenty, ya big ox. I just don't waste 'em on the likes of you."

The squad continued the light-hearted banter and teasing until the Sarge returned from a conversation with Lt. Hanley and gave the order to 'saddle up.' First and Second Platoons had been ordered to establish a defensive line a half mile beyond the HQ. The lieutenant set up his CP in a partially destroyed farm house a quarter mile back from the line and ordered his squad leaders to spread their squads out to cover the 200 plus yards that were his responsibility.

First Squad would hold the left flank for King Company, with a squad from Item Company on their left and Second Squad on their right. A squad from Second Platoon would be the forward observers for the company. Before moving up to start digging in, Saunders called his men together.

"Listen up. S-2 doesn't know how far the Krauts have pulled back. Dig your foxholes about twenty yards apart, two men in each one, an' deep in case we get an artillery barrage. Doc, we'll be moving out at first light, so you stick with us. Any questions?"

"Aw, Sarge, how come we gotta spend the night in foxholes? We always get…"

"Shut up, Kirby! Caje an' Kirby, you're on the right next to Second Squad. Doc, you're with me. We'll take the left side. Nelson an' Lydecker, Littlejohn an' Jankowski, you're in the middle two. Let's go." The NCO started to move forward.

"Sorry, Littlejohn," Bill whispered.

"Don't worry, Billy. Your turn will come," Littlejohn quietly responded as he began to move out.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Jankowski called to the sergeant.

Kirby and Caje stopped to watch, expecting another conflict with their difficult squad mate to occur.

Saunders slowly turned around, not looking very happy. "What's the hold-up?" he growled.

"Look, Sarge, I don't wanna partner with the giant," Jankowski whined. "I'll be all night diggin'. Lydecker or Nelson can partner with him."

Saunders shook his head and sighed. The BAR man and the scout were hoping the Sarge would rip the private a new one, but instead he calmly said, "Okay, Jankowski, you don't want to partner with Littlejohn, you don't have to." A satisfied smirk appeared on Jankowski's face. "Doc, you partner with Littlejohn. Jankowski, you're with me. Now, MOVE OUT!"

Jankowski fell in behind the sergeant. The rest of the squad hung back for a moment longer and then exchanged knowing grins. Lydecker didn't understand what they were so pleased. It looked to him as if Jankowski had thrown a fit and gotten his way. He waited to walk beside Doc, whose smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Doc, what just happened? The sergeant gave in to one of Jankowski's temper tantrums. Why's everyone so happy?"

"No, he didn't, Joey. Actually, he just did me a big favor. Watch and learn."

When the squad was within sight of where the defensive line would be established, Saunders sent Caje ahead to do a sweep of the area. When he signaled 'all clear,' the men crouched down and moved forward. Saunders indicated to Jankowski where to start digging their foxhole. Then he moved down the line to check the positioning of each pair of men. He had just gotten back to his own spot when Cpl. Brockmeyer arrived.

"Sarge, the lieutenant wants to see ya back at the CP."

"Okay, Brockmeyer." He turned to Jankowski and got right in the private's face. "Keep digging, an' make sure it's deep enough to stand an' fire all the way around," he growled.

With that, Saunders crouched down and headed back to the farm house. Down the line his departure was again greeted with satisfied nods and smiles.

Since the approaching gloom could hide Kraut movement, the men cautiously set to work, keeping one eye on their deepening foxholes and the other on the terrain before them.

Caje slithered over to Billy and Joey's foxhole and quietly asked, "Everyding okay wid you two?"

"Yeah, Caje. We'll be done in a few minutes," Billy answered just as softly.

"Stay put when you're done. Joey, remember how you told us dose rules (2) when you first came up?"

"Yeah," Lydecker responded cautiously.

"Well, you had a rule about sticking to your sergeant. If you stick wid Saunders, you're sure to learn a lot because he's a good NCO…."

Kirby had followed Caje out of their foxhole to join the conversation. "An' one of the things ya'll learn real fast is how to dig a foxhole," he said, finishing off Caje's sentence with a chuckle.

"Kirby, get back to our position!" Caje hissed at his friend.

Kirby reluctantly turned to leave.

"Kirby's right, but it's not de Sarge's fault. He gets called back to meet wid de lieutenant all de time when we're digging in. If he's partnering wid someone, dat guy ends up doing most of de digging. De Sarge tries to spread it around, partnering wid someone different each time. Dis was Doc's turn. We would've helped Doc out when we were done."

"Then should we help out Jankowski?"

"No," said the Cajun. "De Sarge keeps trying to teach him dat he's got to obey orders and not just do what he wants to do. But, he's a slow learner."

"Yeah," Kirby piped up. "An' also that he needs to do his fair share of the work an' not whine about it."

"Kirby, get back into position!" said the scout.

Then Littlejohn, who had come over to see what the discussion was about, couldn't resist adding, "Like you, right, Kirby."

"Listen, the Sarge don't gotta worry 'bout me when we're out on a mission."

"Yeah, it's just all the rest of the time that you're griping an' complaining."

Billy laughed, but then got serious and said, "Well, I hope Jankowski learns before it gets him killed."

"Or one of us," added Caje. "Kirby and Littlejohn, get back to your positions. I'm going to check on Doc and Jankowski," he said as he slithered off.

After checking on the rest of the squad, Caje returned to his own foxhole. Saunders still hadn't returned.

The foxhole Jankowski was working on wasn't very far along, barely providing cover to a man on his knees and hunched over. The problem private stopped digging and crawled out to lie on the ground and stare up into the star-filled night sky. 'Let Saunders do the rest when he gets back,' he thought. 'I've done more than enough already.'

Several minutes later the NCO quietly returned and was next to the private before he even realized it.

"Jankowski, you finished digging that foxhole?" the sergeant asked in a low menacing voice.

The private was startled and almost wet himself. He turned and glared at Saunders. "No, I..I thought I heard somethin'."

"Where, up in the sky?" The sergeant again got right in the soldier's face. "DIG!…an' don't you EVER make me have to repeat an order again!" he growled. "You GOT that!"

Saunders' icy glare burned into the private. He tried to match the stare, but after a moment he looked away and mumbled, "Yeah, I got it."

The sergeant left him to crawl down the line, stopping at each foxhole to check on his men. He told each pair to keep one man on watch at all times and to be ready to move out at first light. When he returned to his own position, he never said a word to Jankowski. He lay down on the ground off to the side of the foxhole and kept scanning the terrain ahead of them. Jankowski muttered under his breath, but continued digging. Finally, he was satisfied he was done.

Saunders slipped into the foxhole and quickly pulled himself back out. "Make it six inches deeper," he told the private.

Jankowski gave his sergeant's back a defiant glare as he made an obscene gesture, but he didn't say anything. When he finished, Saunders again slid down and checked that there was good cover no matter where he stood to fire. Then he curled up at the bottom. Before closing his eyes to sleep, he told Jankowski he had the first watch.

Two hours later, Saunders awoke and told Jankowski he'd be back. Like the mother hen he always claimed he wasn't, he slipped down the line to check on his men and to let them know it was time to switch roles. When he returned, he told Jankowski to get some sleep while he stood watch for the next two hours.

And so it went through the night. Approximately every two hours the sergeant would awaken or wake up Jankowski. He would check on the rest of the squad and then he and Jankowski would alternate from sleeping to watchfulness.

Only, Jankowski didn't sleep. He was too stiff and sore from the digging to comfortably curl up. And, he didn't believe the sergeant was really asleep either when he wasn't on guard duty.

'How could Saunders be sleeping and then suddenly be awake as if an alarm had gone off? No,' Jankowski thought, 'he's just trying to catch me dozing off so he can humiliate me again.'

It was that smoldering fire of hatred for and fear of the sergeant that kept him wide awake through the night.

At first light, Saunders awoke. He stretched, yawned and looked up at Jankowski. The soldier was peering into the forest ahead.

"Break out some K rations," he said. "We pull out in fifteen minutes."

He crawled out of the foxhole and crouching, moved down the line, rousing First Squad and getting them ready to leave on patrol. Several minutes later, Third Squad warily moved up, ready to take over the foxholes prepared by Saunders' men.

"Hey, Peters, look at this deep pit. We'll be nice an' cozy here," the Third Squad BAR man quietly said to his companion as they cautiously approached Caje and Kirby's foxhole.

Kirby stood and looked at his counterpart. "Yeah, well, don't turn it into your usual pig sty. I'll be back to claim it tonight."

"Nah, we're gonna move up a little later, so ya can dig a brand new one tonight," the Third Squad BAR man said with a low chuckle.

Caje and Kirby hoisted themselves out of their foxhole, ready to join the rest of the squad.

"Ain't that the truth, Caje. We'll walk 'round all day getting' blisters an' with nothin' but K rations in our bellies an' then come back an' have to dig another hole in the ground like we was prairie dogs or somethin'. It's the same thing day after day, nothin' but sore achin' feet an' crapola in a can to eat. Can't this here Army come up with a better way to fight this here war?"

"Like what, mon ami?"

"Well, like somethin' that can dig foxholes besides my achin' back, for one thing."

"Knock it off," the sergeant said, staring at his men and effectively ending all conversations. He signaled them to move forward into better cover.

"Caje." The scout moved up and squatted beside him. The two men looked over the map. The sergeant traced a route with his finger, indicating a number of locations S-2 wanted the squad to check for Kraut activity.

After a quick scan to be sure everyone was ready, he gave the order to move out, "Caje, take the point, Kirby, the rear, Lydecker, the radio. Let's go."

The squad moved slowly but steadily east for two hours before Saunders called a quick five minute break. He and Caje conferred over the map and the scout once again set out for some distant point he had fixed in his mind. They made good time even though they had to avoid two Kraut patrols. Finally, after another hour and a half, the scout signaled a halt and Saunders eased forward to join him.

"Sarge, de spot you had marked on your map is just ahead."

Saunders pulled out his map, looked around checking the landmarks and then grinned at Caje. "Yeah, that's it." He signaled the rest of the men to move forward. "Take ten. Lydecker, call in to Lt. Hanley."

The sergeant pulled out his binoculars. As usual, he was carrying them inside his field jacket so they weren't hanging around his neck, swinging to and fro with every step and in the way if he suddenly had to make use of the Thompson. He carefully scanned the terrain before him, taking in the stream in the distance they would have to cross. Seeing nothing of interest, he handed the glasses to Caje and walked back to Lydecker. The sergeant reported in that the first area was clear.

Nelson and Littlejohn were assigned forward and rear security while the rest of the men sat in the shade and sipped water from their canteens or grabbed a quick smoke. The sergeant and the scout once more opened the map and studied it. When Saunders stood up and signaled, Caje took the point and the squad headed toward the next location they needed to check.

They moved north toward the stream as the sun rose in the sky. It was a hot, cloudless day and, if not for the ever-present danger of running into Krauts, it would have been easy to sit in the shade under a tree and fall asleep. But instead, they were constantly scanning to their left and right as they slowly advanced. Kirby did a continuous little dance at the back of the squad, walking forward, spinning around and taking a few steps backward, then turning again to face front.

They could hear the rush of water as they approached the stream. Caje dropped to one knee. Saunders crouched and moved up to the scout's position as the rest of the squad took cover. He and the scout carefully moved forward to take a look. They were greeted by a fast moving stream that was swollen from rains further to the east. The two men walked the bank in opposite directions, but found no better place to cross.

Saunders brought the rest of the squad forward. "Caje an' I will cross first an' check out the opposite bank. If it's clear, Nelson, Littlejohn an' Lydecker, cross next. Then Doc, Jankowski an' Kirby."

While the first two men made their way across, Kirby and Jankowski kept watch on the back trail. Nelson, Littlejohn and Lydecker spread out along the bank, keeping a sharp lookout for any movement on the opposite side.

The water was about waist deep, and several times the two men making the initial crossing had to stop to get their balance. When they reached dry land, they immediately separated to check out the area. At last, convinced there were no Krauts in the vicinity, the sergeant waved the next three across.

They buckled the chin straps on their helmets and Lydecker tightened the straps on the radio before they lifted their weapons over their heads and stepped into the fast-moving current.

The three soldiers were almost to the middle when Billy gave a small cry and pitched forward into the water. Littlejohn immediately reached for Billy's field jacket to pull him up, but with his tug, he lost his balance and fell backwards into Lydecker who then also fell over backwards into the stream.

For the men on both shores, it was like watching a slow-motion Buster Keeton comedy. Kirby and Jankowski burst out laughing. However, only Jankowski was still grinning as the scene slowly turned to horror.

They watched as Billy and then Littlejohn stood. But, Lydecker did not resurface. Both soldiers started to frantically feel around under the muddy water for their comrade.

Littlejohn at last found him struggling to free himself from the radio which was caught on something hidden beneath the surface. After what seemed like a lifetime, Littlejohn was able to yank Lydecker out of the radio's harness and lift the half-drowned soldier back to the surface. The radio, however, remained behind.

Between Nelson and Littlejohn, they managed to get Joey the rest of the way to the opposite bank of the stream. Caje and Saunders pulled the semi-conscious soldier onto dry land where he proceeded to cough, retch and gasp for air. Littlejohn hit him several times on his back which brought on a longer coughing spell as he spit up water. At last, he rolled onto his back and took several deep breaths.

Kirby, Doc and Jankowski had, in the meantime, made it across without any mishaps. Doc rushed over to check on Lydecker, but the young soldier assured him that he was alright.

Joey sat up and turned to Littlejohn. "Thanks. Ah thought for sure Ah was a goner."

"He shoulda saved ya. After all, it was the big moose what sent ya under in the first place."

"No, Kirby. It was my fault," said Billy. "I got my foot caught and tripped."

"It wasn't anybody's fault, just an accident," said the sergeant. "Lydecker, you sure you're okay."

"Yes, Sergeant. Sorry 'bout the radio."

"It couldn't be helped."

If something urgent came up, Saunders knew he would have to send the message back with a runner. For now, he was just anxious to continue on with the mission.

"Alright, saddle up."

It was early afternoon by the time they approached their second objective. To the scout, it seemed eerily quiet. He moved ahead very slowly. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he was uneasy. And, if nothing else, Caje had learned to pay attention to those vague feelings. Suddenly, the Cajun raised his fist in the air and the men quickly sought cover, dropping to their bellies or knees behind whatever was available. Saunders crouched low and moved forward, then dropped to his belly and crawled until he was beside the scout.

"What is it?" he asked in a low voice.

"I don't know. Someding doesn't feel right."

Saunders scanned the clearing in front of them. He had seen the scout in action too many times not to trust any 'feeling' that Caje might have. He signaled his men to stay put as he and the Cajun slowly crawled forward. All was quiet, so very quiet. There were no buzzing insects, no chirping birds. It was as if all of nature had stopped and was holding its breath. The two soldiers inched their way to a fallen log that offered scant cover. They studied the rocks and debris piled on the opposite side of a clearing.

'Is it an innocent pile created by some farmer as he had worked to create another field? Or, was the debris pulled together by the Krauts? Is the enemy lurking behind it?' All those questions and a half dozen more quickly ran through the sergeant's mind. The clearing itself offered no clues.

Then they saw it, just for an instant. The top of a Kraut helmet as the man shifted his position. The two Americans slowly eased their way back, returning to the cover of the trees.

"Looks like a machine gun nest. Do we take it out or go around?" Caje asked, looking to his sergeant for a decision.

Saunders swiftly considered his options. He knew sooner or later this obstacle would have to be removed. And, with no radio to call in the location… "We'll take it out," he said as the two men moved back to the waiting squad.

"Alright, listen up. There's a machine gun nest on the other side of a clearing. Caje an' Jankowski, circle right. Nelson, you're on me. We'll circle left. Kirby, Littlejohn an' Lydecker, lay down cover fire. Doc…"

"I know, Sarge, stay down."

"Kirby, give us five minutes, then open up."

"Right, Sarge."

The seven men began cautiously moving into position. Caje with Jankowski and the sergeant with Nelson moved in opposite directions along the perimeter of the clearing. Each pair of soldiers hoped to get near enough to lob in a couple of grenades. When both pairs were as close as they dared go without alerting the Krauts, they waited for Kirby, Littlejohn and Lydecker to open fire.

The initial onslaught was difficult for Lydecker since he had nothing to aim at. But, their ferocious attack was quickly answered by the Krauts and, as the battle raged, targets presented themselves. He had lost track of the men moving to encircle the position and couldn't tell if they were drawing fire or not. He, Kirby and Littlejohn kept up a steady barrage at the barricade as well as at any of the Krauts who tried to move out of the pocket in a possible flanking movement.

Suddenly, the explosion of a grenade, followed quickly by another one, led to a deadly silence from the Kraut position. Caje waited for Saunders to tell them to hold their fire. When he didn't, the scout thought the Sarge's Tommy gun must have jammed and he was working on it, 'and probably cursing,' the Cajun thought, so he yelled, "HOLD YOUR FIRE."

Kirby signaled Lydecker to stay where he was as he and Littlejohn cautiously moved forward. The men on the flanks held their positions, ready to open fire if any of the Krauts resumed shooting. The wait seemed to stretch on for an inordinate amount of time as each German soldier was checked for any sign of life.

Finally, Kirby yelled, "ALL CLEAR."

This was followed several moments later by a scream, "DOC! DOC!"

"That's Billy!" Littlejohn said as he turned and started to move toward the call for help. "He was with the Sarge."

All of the squad members began moving in the direction of the call, but they were passed by Doc who seemed to fly by them out of nowhere. Caje grabbed Lydecker and Jankowski, told them to take security and pushed both of them toward their back trail before he ran to join his comrades.

When Doc arrived on the scene, he saw Saunders on his back, still holding the Thompson across his chest. The collar and right shoulder of his field jacket were saturated with blood. Billy was on his knees, pressing the collar against the sergeant's neck with one hand, trying to stem the river of red, while struggling to open a field bandage with the other. Doc quickly grabbed the dressing from Billy and ripped it open.

He knelt beside Nelson and calmly said, "Ah'll take over. Move an' give me room."

Billy hesitated for an instant before he removed his hand from the sergeant's neck. He felt someone's strong hands on his arms as he was lifted to a standing position. He turned and looked, first at Littlejohn, and then at the bloody hand he was holding out in front of himself. Littlejohn put his arm around his pal's shoulder and steered him away from their fallen leader.

Doc moved the collar away and quickly assessed the situation. The blood wasn't bright red and it wasn't spurting out, so an artery hadn't been hit. He began applying pressure on the Sarge's neck where Billy had been, but he didn't seem to be stopping the flow.

"Caje, cut the Sarge's field jacket and shirt away so Ah can see what Ah'm doing"

Caje pulled out the small jackknife he kept in his first aid pouch for just this purpose. He slit the garments as requested, pulling the material away to expose Saunders' shoulder.

"Take one of the bandages from mah rucksack an' wipe away the blood below mah hands."

Again, Caje did as instructed, revealing a deep, wide, ragged furrow not in the neck but in the shoulder just at the base of the neck. Doc immediately moved his hands and the bandage lower and began applying pressure to the wound. There had been so much blood that it, along with the clothing, had obscured the actual location of wound.

Doc breathed a sigh of relief. Having briefly seen the wound, he didn't think it looked too bad. It was just that the sergeant had, by now, lost a lot of blood. Doc closed his eyes and silently said a little prayer. Yes, Saunders would be alright. He would see to it.

Billy was still a little shaky. Littlejohn pulled out his canteen and handed it to him so he could rinse the blood off his hand. The big man spotted Kirby walking toward them and feared the stupid thing the BAR man would probably say to upset his young friend. But, to his great surprise, Kirby just put an arm around Billy's shoulder.

"Ya doin' okay, Billy?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. There was just so much blood."

"Ya done good though. Doc's takin' care of him. He'll be okay." Kirby looked at Littlejohn before he continued. When the big private gave a small nod, he calmly asked, "What happened?"

Billy shook his head.

Littlejohn said, "It's okay, Billy. Just take your time."

"Well, we moved off to the left. I was behind the Sarge. He stopped and was crouched down behind that tree," Billy pointed to a tree near where Saunders lay, "tucked in next to that big bush. I took a position back there," he turned and pointed. "We were waiting for you to open up. I looked across the clearing an' I could see Caje an' Jankowski move into position. Then I turned to watch the Krauts. I guess I lost track of him. I don't know if he continued to move forward or not."

He paused and looked at Kirby. The BAR man was nodding as Nelson spoke.

"Then, all hell broke loose when you guys started firing. I moved forward to there," he pointed, "trying to get closer to cover the Sarge. But, I didn't think anything was coming our way, so I didn't shoot. Honest, I didn't see any of them move toward Saunders." Guilt was written all over his face as he looked at his two squad mates.

"Then what happened?" Kirby asked.

"There were the grenade explosions. I expected to see the Sarge move toward the machine gun nest, but I didn't see him. When you yelled 'all clear,' I started to look for him." Billy paused. "I seen him lying there…There was so much blood…I ran to him and tried to stop the bleeding. Then I called for Doc. That's all."

"Okay. You an' Littlejohn get a litter ready. I'm gonna go talk to Jankowski an' Lydecker," he said as he walked away.

Joey was back where the squad had gathered before the fight. As Caje had instructed, he was watching the back trail. He turned as Kirby approached and then turned back to continue his surveillance. Kirby thought he looked a little pale.

"How's the sergeant? Is he gonna be alright?"

"Doc's workin' on him." Kirby knew Lydecker had been off to his right during the firefight. "Joey, did ya see the Sarge? Did ya see any Krauts move off in his direction?"

"No. Ah keep trying to think back. Ah lost track of the sergeant and the rest of the fellas once they moved out. After we opened fire, if Ah saw any Kraut movement, Ah aimed at that soldier. Ah didn't see any of them move much out of the pocket. But, Ah guess one must've got out." He hung his head and bit his lip. "Sorry, Ah should've done better."

"Nah, kid, ya done good. If ya seen any of 'em, I know ya got 'em." And, Kirby believed that was true. He had checked the bodies. He knew that no Kraut had gotten more than a step or two beyond their makeshift barricade. "I'm gonna check on Jankowski. Stay here an' keep watch. An' ya don't gotta worry 'bout the Sarge. He's tough. He'll be okay," he added, as much to convince himself as Lydecker.

Kirby found Jankowski sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree a little ways off from where the Kraut machine gun nest had been. He couldn't determine what, exactly, the soldier was doing.

"I though Caje told ya to take security. What are ya doin' here?"

"I'm watchin'. If anyone gets by Lydecker, I'm ready."

"Yeah, right," the BAR man said with distain. But, Kirby didn't want to pursue Jankowski's lack of vigilance any further at that moment, so he got down to the purpose of his visit. "What happened after you an' Caje moved out?"

"Well, Caje told me to follow behind him, but not to fire unless we were spotted. So, I did EXACTLY what he said. When he stopped, he signaled me to stay put. You opened fire, but nobody fired at us, so I didn't fire. That's all."

"Did ya see Billy or the Sarge?"

"Not after we moved out. I was watchin' Caje an' followin' him."

"Okay. Move over to them fallen logs where we provided cover fire an' keep watch from there. Ya can't do nothin' to help Lydecker from here."

Kirby watched as Jankowski stood and slowly moved across the clearing to the position he had indicated. He shook his head. 'I'm glad there's other guys in this squad to watch my back,' he thought.

Caje reached into the sergeant's breast pocket and removed the map. He pulled out the binoculars and hung them around his neck. Then he loosened the sergeant's grip on the Thompson. As he moved his hands to pick up the weapon, one of them ran down the barrel and his finger was nicked by a jagged edge on what should have been a smooth, round metal surface. He stood, holding the weapon, and took several steps away from Saunders and Doc. As he examined the barrel, he looked in the direction of where his squad mates had provided cover fire and then in the direction of the Kraut machine gun nest. Both were hidden from view. Just then he was joined by Kirby.

"Whacha lookin' at?"

Caje shook his head, puzzled. "Look at dis." He showed Kirby the small but ragged gouge. "De bullet must've ricocheted."

Kirby examined the barrel and looked down at the Sarge. "Lucky. If it hadn't hit the barrel, it woulda probably caught him right in the chest."

"Yeah, lucky."

Kirby filled Caje in on his conversations with Nelson, Lydecker and Jankowski. "I'm pretty sure the Sarge wasn't flanked. Billy or Joey would've seen it if one of them Krauts had made a move. It musta just been a stray bullet. One of them Krauts pullin' the trigger as they got shot or hit by shrapnel from the grenades."

"Yeah, I guess so. Let's see how Doc's doing."

The medic had the bleeding under control by the time the sergeant regained consciousness. Littlejohn and Billy returned with the litter, but the sergeant balked at being carried. With Doc's help, he stood and then moved to lean against a nearby tree. Kirby walked over to him.

"Look, Sarge, let Doc give ya a shot of morphine an' we'll get ya back."

Saunders glared at the BAR man. "No morphine an' I'll walk."

The rest of the men looked at Doc. The medic shook his head. He knew the Sarge didn't always react well to the drug and therefore often told him not to give it to him, especially if he had it in his head that he was going to continue on with the mission. And, Doc was sure Saunders would stubbornly try to keep going as long as he could, even though he had already lost a lot of blood. The medic shook his head again and looked at Caje. Kirby, Billy and Littlejohn also turned to look at the Cajun.

The scout felt everyone's eyes riveted on him, wanting him to talk some sense into the Sarge. He hated being placed in that position. It was one thing when he took the squad out and they looked to him for direction, just as they always looked to Saunders when a decision had to be made. But, this was different.

He never told the NCO what to do (3) or questioned his orders, unlike Kirby. How many times had the sergeant told him to try to flank an enemy position and he had gone, even though the odds weren't good? He thought about the rule Lydecker had, 'When a sergeant gives an order, you obey it immediately, no questions asked.' He also lived by that rule. Still, maybe this was different…

Caje knew that completing the mission was what mattered to Saunders. Maybe, if he could present an acceptable plan to do just that, the Sarge would go along…

The Cajun walked over and started talking to his sergeant in a low voice as the rest of the men backed off. The NCO thought over what the scout suggested, but he wanted just Doc to go back with him. Caje pointed out the dangerous position that would place Doc in if they ran into trouble. After the two men had talked for a few minutes, Saunders gave his squad their orders.

"Littlejohn, Billy and Doc…you'll head back with me. We'll go the same way we came."

The three men looked at each other, wondering how Caje had gotten the Sarge to agree to that.

"Caje, Kirby, Lydecker and Jankowski, complete the mission. Caje is in charge. There are three more locations to check."

"Sarge, I can carry you across when we get to the stream…" Littlejohn eagerly volunteered.

"…or we can build a raft," added Billy, just as eagerly.

"Littlejohn, ya big ox…"Kirby started to say something about Littlejohn being so clumsy that earlier he nearly drowned Lydecker, but Saunders cut him off.

"I don't need anybody to carry me anywhere," he growled. "Let's go." He took a couple of unsteady steps, gained his balance and started out.

Caje caught Littlejohn's sleeve and held him back. "Do what you dink is best. Just be careful and watch for Kraut patrols. We'll catch up wid you as soon as we can."

Littlejohn nodded. "If we cross, I'll leave a sign."

Doc joined them. "Ah'm gonna have to keep an eye on that bleeding."

"Doc, you just tell us when we need to stop," Littlejohn said.

Caje gave them a final nod as they started off. "Send Jankowski and Lydecker back," he called after them.

The Cajun pulled out the map, not that he needed to look at it again. Saunders had planned on making a loop to cover the final three positions, bringing them back to their current location. His gaze moved from Kirby to the approaching young privates. He had briefly thought about asking the Sarge to take the untrustworthy soldier back with him instead of Billy, but he knew Littlejohn and Doc would have enough problems without Jankowski along to add to them.

When the remains of the squad had assembled, he said, "We have a lot of ground to cover, so let's go."

The four soldiers approached the third location the squad was supposed to check. They were cautiously moving in when they heard laughter and pieces of conversation in German. Inching up, they found a Kraut patrol taking a break. Some of the Krauts had opened field rations while others were smoking. The German sergeant kept looking at his watch, as if he was expecting something to happen.

Caje nudged Kirby and pointed off to their left. A troop transport truck came into view and stopped. The Krauts noisily got to their feet, picked up their gear and trudged toward the truck, which was already carrying a squad of soldiers. Once everyone was loaded, the sergeant lifted the tailgate into place, walked to the front and climbed into the cab. The truck sputtered to life and then rumbled away.

Kirby spoke quietly to himself, "I wonder where they're goin'." He was surprised when Caje answered.

"Dere's no road on de map. Let's follow dat truck and see where it goes."

They moved cautiously forward to where the truck had been parked and found a rutted farm wagon trail. After about a half mile, Caje suddenly signaled the men to halt and seek cover. Kirby crawled on his belly until he reached the overgrown bush where the scout lay.

"Dere are sentries ahead." Caje barely breathed the words.

The Cajun signaled Lydecker and Jankowski to fall back. The scout joined them while Kirby and his BAR covered the retreat. Once they were all at a safe distance, Caje told them to wait there while he tried to find out what the sentries were guarding.

The scout evaded the guards and moved forward in a crouch, all of his senses on alert. He heard noise ahead, so he continued to inch toward it, controlling his breathing and carefully placing his feet with each step.

He saw a small field ahead, so he flattened out on his belly to slither even closer. Finally, he could make out a non-descript farm house with an unusually large antennae rising up from the roof and a ramshackle old barn. A Kraut command car and two troop carriers were parked under a grove of trees on the far side of the field. Only two soldiers were visible as discretely positioned sentries. Caje slowly crawled back, returning the way he had come.

Once he rejoined the other men, he squatted and took a couple of deep breaths to help relieve the tension. When he was ready, he signaled the three men to follow him and they withdrew another quarter of a mile before they settled down behind good cover. The Cajun told them what he had seen.

"Do you think we should get a closer look?" asked Lydecker.

"It's all open ground up to de farm house. I dink dis is an important Kraut position, but dere's not enough of us to take it out."

"Ya mean it's one crummy detail we don't gotta do!?" Kirby stated as much as asked.

Caje quietly sighed. He usually enjoying it when his friend tried Saunders' patience, but now he understood why the Sarge often just told the BAR man to shut up. Kirby had many fine qualities, but right at that moment, the scout had a hard time remembering any of them.

"Yes, Kirby, we're going to leave it for somebody else. But, we don't have a radio and we need to get de information back to de CP as quickly as possible."

Lydecker thought about one of his rules, 'Never Volunteer,' but he also felt responsible for having lost the radio.

"Caje, if you're looking for a volunteer, Ah'll go since it's mah fault we don't have the radio."

"Joey, nobody's blaming you. But, if you want to volunteer…I'll send Jankowski back wid you. Kirby and I will continue on to complete de mission. When we're done, we'll meet up wid de rest of de squad and help dem bring de Sarge in."

He tore off two pieces of the map and then padded down all of his pockets looking for a pencil. When none of the other men could produce one either, he cursed himself for not having taken the one the Sarge carried when he had taken the map. Having no other choice, he said the coordinates and made each of the young soldiers repeat the information several times.

"Head due west and get back to our lines as quick as possible. You should be able to make it by sometime dis evening. Tell Lt. Hanley de coordinates and dat it looks like a communications command post. He'll decide what to do. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Lydecker responded as Jankowski nodded his head.

"Alright, get started and keep alert."

The two headed out. They had only gone about twenty yards when Caje called Lydecker back.

In a low voice he said, "Listen, if Jankowski slows you up, just leave him." Lydecker looked concerned. "Don't worry. He'll make it back. You just get dose coordinates to Lt. Hanley as fast as you can. Dat's what's important."

"Okay, Caje." Joey jogged back to where Jankowski was waiting.

"What'd he want?" the difficult soldier demanded.

Lydecker laughed. "Just to tell me not to let you get me into trouble…You ready?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Caje watched them head west, back toward the American lines.

The scout was already second-guessing himself when Kirby asked, "Why'd ya send Jankowski back with Joey?"

Caje, still watching the receding figures, hesitated before replying. "Wid two, dere's a better chance de message will get drough…Let's go."

He started out before Kirby had the opportunity to respond. But, the Cajun knew the real reason he had sent Jankowski back was that he didn't trust the soldier to do what he was told if they ran into trouble. It was easier not to have to deal with him.

The medic fell in beside Littlejohn. "Keep close to the Sarge and be ready to catch him if he stumbles." Doc knew Littlejohn was often clumsy, tripping over his own feet. But, he had also seen the big man steady Billy when he was tired and other soldiers when they were 'walking wounded'. He also knew Littlejohn had the strength to catch the sergeant and keep him from crashing to the ground if he should start to fall.

Travel was slow. With the condition the sergeant was in, they didn't want to force the pace. After about a half mile, Doc wanted to check the wound. Billy found a place with good cover where they could stop and sit. The wound had already bled through the dressing. Doc added another bandage, pulling one of the long ends behind the NCO's back and under his arm pit, tying it as tightly as he could across the sergeant's chest. The medic checked his rucksack.

"Littlejohn, you still got your first aid supplies?"

"Sure Doc…you need them?"

"No…just checking."

Billy and Littlejohn exchanged worried glances, but said nothing.

Littlejohn stood. "I'll check ahead. You rest."

When he returned, he helped Saunders to his feet. He sent Billy ahead so he could again walk beside Saunders. They covered another half mile, although the pace continued to slow. Finally, without consulting with the sergeant, Doc pulled Saunders' left arm over his shoulder and grabbed the sergeant's wrist. With his right arm around his waist and holding onto his web belt, the medic continued walking. The NCO said nothing, but the medic saw him clench his jaw and he could hear his ragged breathing. The two of them stumbled along for another quarter mile with Doc bearing more and more of the sergeant's weight. Finally, he nodded to Littlejohn and they gently lowered Saunders to the ground.

Doc reached into his rucksack for an ampoule of morphine and pushed up the Sarge's sleeve to administer the drug. Littlejohn and Billy took off their field jackets and put together a litter. Once it was ready, the men lifted their squad leader onto it. Doc put another dressing on the still bleeding wound. He took off his field jacket and covered the sergeant, and then he and Billy picked up the litter. With Littlejohn leading the way, one half of First Squad continued their journey home.

The two young soldiers had traveled less than a mile when Jankowski stopped, took his helmet off and wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. He looked around, spotted a log, walked over to it, heaved a big sigh and sat.

"What are you doing?" an exasperated Lydecker asked.

"I'm tired an' I'm gonna take a rest."

"A rest! We've covered less than a mile. Caje said we needed to get this information back as quick as possible, so let's go!"

"Look, YOU don't tell ME what to do, PRIVATE."

Remembering the Cajun's last words to him, Joey said, "Fine, you want to stay here, then stay here. But Ah'm continuing on."

Lydecker turned and started walking away. He heard a noise behind him, the sound of metal scraping against metal, and thought Jankowski must have come to his senses and was getting up. When he turned to make sure, he was greeted by the sight of Jankowski standing and holding his rifle with the bayonet fixed.

"Now what are you doing? Get that bayonet off your rifle and back in your scabbard before somebody gets hurt."

"Oh, SOMEBODY's gonna get hurt alright." Jankowski took two menacing steps forward. "Drop your rifle. DO IT, NOW!"

Lydecker immediately realized that Jankowski was standing too close to him. He would never be able to lift his rifle and get a shot off before the bayonet was plunged into his chest.

"Okay, just take it easy." He dropped his rifle and took a step backward. "What's this about?"

"This? This is ME doin' MY DUTY to rid this squad of annoyin' people. Saunders…you…maybe Caje…I haven't decided yet…yeah, Caje has gotta go."

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"What do you THINK I'm talkin' about?"

"YOU shot the Sarge?!" It was at that moment Joey decided Jankowski had to be crazy.

"Yeah an' I was sure I'd killed him. It was just dumb luck that he moved at the last second an' the bullet ricocheted off the barrel of his Thompson. But, he won't be so lucky next time."

"Why? Sgt. Saunders is a good squad leader. We're lucky to have landed in his squad."

"He's been on my back since the day we arrived, orderin' me around. 'Course, if it hadn't been for YOU always tryin' so hard to be the PERFECT little soldier, just like back in Basic, he wouldn't 've picked on me."

Lydecker took another step backward. "He's a sergeant. He's supposed to order us around. And, he hasn't been picking on you. You just need to do what he tells you to do."

"SHUT UP! I'm givin' the orders now."

"Look, Jankowski…Bobby…you can't just kill me. They're gonna find out."

"WHO? Who's gonna find out? I'll just go back to our lines an' say, 'Poor Joey. We ran into a Kraut patrol. He told me to hide so that I'd make it back with the information an' then he tried to fight 'em single-handed. He's a real hero!' They'll believe it." He laughed. "Hey, ya might even get a medal! 'Course ya'll be dead, so it won't do ya much good."

Lydecker knew it was true. Nobody would come looking for his body. And, even if Graves Registration did manage to find it, nobody was going to doubt Jankowski's story of how he had died. He decided to change tactics.

"You know, you're right. The sergeant has been kind of rough on you. You should get a transfer to another unit. Ah could help you, be your witness." Lydecker took another step backwards.

"YOU THINK I'M STUPID!" the unhinged soldier shouted.

"No, 'course not, but calm down. You're gonna have every Kraut in the area down on us. Listen, we can work this out."

Jankowski smiled. Lydecker figured he was out of time. He hoped he had put enough distance between himself and this madman so he would have to lunge if he was going to use the bayonet. Joey thought that was his only chance. He saw Jankowski pull the rifle back, preparing to make his move.

In the instant Jankowski lunged, Lydecker turned and stepped back. The bayonet caught him just below his rib cage, slicing his left side open. The crazed soldier's momentum carried him forward to within an arm's length of Lydecker. Joey reached out and grabbed the lapels of Jankowski's field jacket. He head butted his adversary and Jankowski fell down with Joey on top of him.

Each of the two men tried to throw a punch, but they were too close together for either to be effective. They rolled around on the ground until Jankowski was able to hit Lydecker in the side where he had been bayoneted. Joey instinctively curled up to protect his wounded side, and the maniac was able to pull away and get up.

Jankowski was wild-eyed as he looked around for his rifle. He kicked at Lydecker. Joey grabbed the foot and twisted it, sending the crazed soldier back to the ground, but he fell in the direction of his weapon. His adrenaline pumping, Lydecker pushed himself up. He saw Jankowski stand and reach for his rifle.

Joey knew that this time, the demented soldier wouldn't fool around with the bayonet, he would shoot him. His own rifle was out of reach. Lydecker pulled his bayonet from its scabbard and launched himself toward his adversary. Jankowski swung the rifle around to fire just as Lydecker reached him. Joey plunged his bayonet into his attacker's belly as the two collided. He and the lunatic were face to face.

Jankowski snarled, "God damn you, you little bastard," and then he was dead.

The two collapsed to the ground. Lydecker rolled off the body and lay next to it, trying to catch his breath. He was in a daze. Although the fight had only lasted a minute, two at most, he felt as if he had been in mortal combat for hours.

At last, Joey sat up. He knew he needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and this place in case there were any Krauts around who had heard Jankowski shout. He struggled to get to his feet. He went over to where his helmet and rifle lay and picked them up. Giving Jankowski one last look, he staggered away from the area, holding his side as the blood began to drip off his fingers.

After traveling for a half hour, Lydecker stopped, put his back to a tree and slid down to a sitting position. He opened his field jacket and pulled up his shirt and undershirt to examine the bayonet wound. It had bled quite a bit, but it looked like a clean slice, maybe an inch deep and six inches long reaching from his front around his side.

He opened his first aid kit and dressed the wound. It took him several tries to reach behind his back with one end of the bandage, but he finally managed and tied the two ends tightly together. He held his left hand pressed against the wound until he thought the bleeding had slowed. Then he pulled out his canteen and took a long drink.

Pushing against the tree, Lydecker stood and tried to get his bearings. He didn't remember which way he had traveled, but he knew he had to head west to make it back to the American lines. With his left hand pressed against his wounded side and his rifle in his right hand, Joey started walking toward the setting sun.

Caje and Kirby moved quickly but cautiously along the route the sergeant had drawn on the map. They wanted to avoid all contact with the enemy, so they made a wide detour around a Kraut patrol that had stopped for a break and hid while another one passed by. They were sure that the squads were the same ones they had seen earlier in the day.

The scout carefully scanned the fourth position with the binoculars before passing them to the BAR man. Neither saw anything of interest, so they headed for the fifth and final location.

Halfway there, Kirby quietly called to his friend and signaled he needed a break. The two men settled into a well concealed spot for a few minutes of rest. The BAR man took a long drink from his canteen and then passed it to Caje, who was studying the map.

"Ya look at that more than the Sarge does. Whatcha lookin' for?"

"How far do you dink dey've gotten?"

"Who, Lydecker an' Jankowski?"

"No, de oders."

"I think Doc was waitin' for the Sarge to pass out an' then they'd have to carry him." He shaded his eyes and looked up at the sun. "I don't think they've reached the stream yet."

"After we check de last location, we could cut drough here," he moved his finger along an imaginary route on the map, "and maybe save an hour. But, we'd come out upstream from where we crossed."

"Okay. So we follow the stream to where we crossed an' if there's no sign, we head back toward the machine gun nest 'til we find 'em."

Caje nodded. He took a drink and handed the canteen back to Kirby. "Let's go."

Doc tried to think of something other than his aching arms and shoulders. It had taken them four, or was it five, hours to reach the second location. They'd been walking for half that time and still hadn't reached the river. 'Alright,' he told himself, 'that isn't helping. Think about something else.'

"Wait, I gotta rest." Billy gasped.

Littlejohn looked at his companions. Doc looked like he needed a rest as well, although he hadn't said anything. The big private led them to a spot with better cover and the two men set the litter down. The medic immediately checked the wound on Saunders' shoulder and shook his head.

"What is it, Doc?" asked Littlejohn.

"It's bleed through again. How close do you think we are to the river?"

"At least another half an hour. Why?"

Doc pulled the last bandage from his rucksack. "'Cause all this bouncing around isn't helping. He needs a hospital an' a transfusion."

The big man nodded. "You two rest. I'm gonna check ahead."

Littlejohn knew they weren't going to make it too much further. He and Billy spelled each other, and Billy was already getting tired. Neither of them had spelled Doc. It seemed too risky to not have one of them with a weapon at the ready.

He did his best to follow the orders of Saunders and Lt. Hanley, but he sure didn't like having to be the one to make the decisions. What if he made a mistake? Caje had said to do what he thought was best. That's what his Ma always said, 'Just do your best, son. Nobody can ask for more than that.' He thought about their situation, made up his mind and headed back to rejoin the others.

"It looks clear ahead. Billy, you and me will carry the litter an' give Doc a break. You two switch after fifteen minutes and then, Billy, you check ahead. We'll do that until we reach the stream."

Billy stared at his friend, hesitating for a moment before he said, "Okay."

Doc looked from Littlejohn to Nelson, and then he, too, reluctantly nodded. They all understood the risk they were taking, but they also desperately wanted to get Saunders back.

"Doc, are you finished tending to the Sarge?" asked Billy.

When the medic nodded, Billy and Littlejohn picked up the litter and they continued walking toward the swollen creek.

It was dusk by the time Caje and Kirby caught sight of the stream. They carefully worked their way to where they had crossed and cautiously checked out the area, hoping to meet friends, but prepared if they ran into the enemy. It was a relief when their softly voiced sign was answered by an equally soft countersign.

Without pausing to take a break, Caje said, "Let's go home."

The scout crossed the still swollen waterway and checked to be sure there was nobody waiting on the other side. When he was satisfied, he signaled and the four remaining men lifted the litter and carried their sergeant across.

With five men to rotate, the squad made good time, stopping only for Doc to tend to the still oozing wound.

Joey didn't know how long he had been walking. He kept repeating the coordinates over and over, lifting his feet to the rhythm of the numbers. He knew he hadn't held a straight line. He had been weaving and stumbling, especially for the last hour. His hand was sticky with blood and droplets were again dripping slowly off his fingers. The sun had set long ago and he was having trouble keeping track of the sliver of a moon.

He remembered having stopped at some point to get another drink. He hadn't been able to get the canteen back in its pouch and it had fallen to the ground. He hadn't thought he could reach down and get it, so he had left it. Now, he was thirsty and his throat felt raw. That was a stupid mistake, he told himself. He tightened his grip on his rifle, so he wouldn't drop it and then leave it behind, too.

The young soldier listened to the sounds of the night. He had never been scared of the dark before, but now, every noise seemed to signal danger to him. He knew he needed to stop walking and rest. Tomorrow, when the sun came up, he could get his bearings. Where could he hide? The noises seemed to be closing in on him. He turned around and around, looking for…he couldn't think what he was looking for.

Then it came to him. He would climb a tree. That's where animals went at night for safety, if they could. He turned around again and spotted a tree he thought he could climb; at least he could if he wasn't so tired. He leaned his rifle against the trunk. 'I'll get it in the morning,' he told himself.

Summoning all of his strength, he jumped up to grab a branch. He pulled himself up and swung a leg over the branch, dropping his helmet to the ground at the same time. But, he managed to get to a sitting position. From there he stood and, hanging onto a branch, moved to one of the great boughs. He sat down and swung his leg over. He lay on his belly on the limb, letting his arms and legs dangle, pressing his cheek against the rough bark.

Joey repeated the coordinates again. He closed his eyes, mumbled, "Dear heavenly Father, please forgive me mah trespasses as Ah forgive those who have trespassed against me…," and passed out.

It was almost 0100 when First Squad approached the forward observers. They immediately radioed back for a jeep to meet the squad between the CP and the village to transport the still unconscious Saunders, along with Doc, to the field hospital.

For a moment after the jeep departed, the rest of the squad just stood in a small huddle, watching the cloud of dust it had made form and settle gently to earth. Then, as if the jeep had also carried away their last bits of strength, they collapsed, too tired to move.

After a few minutes, Caje wearily turned to at his comrades. "I've got to report in to Lt. Hanley." He stood and walked off into the darkness.

Littlejohn struggled to his feet and offered Billy a hand. He turned and looked at Kirby, then reached out his long arm to haul the BAR man up.

"Thanks," Kirby was about to say 'ya big moose,' but instead grinned and said, "Littlejohn." He saw Cpl. Brockmeyer heading toward them. "Hey, Brockmeyer, ya got us a billet for tonight?"

"That's CORPORAL Brockmeyer to you, Kirby…The lieutenant said ya can billet in the village if ya can walk back that far. When ya get there, your gear's in the church. Talk to Sgt. Orrin an' he'll fix ya up. Otherwise, sack out in the ruins of the barn an' head back to the village in the mornin'."

They looked at each other and sighed as they considered their choices…inside a cellar or partially destroyed building with their blankets and a floor or maybe even a chair or mattress to sleep on, or outside on the hard, damp ground? As they began to slowly walk toward the village they, too, were quickly swallowed by the darkness.

Lt. Hanley was bent over the pile of papers that covered the table he was using for a desk. The table, which shifted on its precarious legs whenever he rested too much weight on it, did so when he saw First Squad's scout enter the room. He knew immediately something had happened to Saunders, otherwise Caje wouldn't be standing before him. He asked what had happened, trying to hide his concern for his friend.

First things first, the Cajun told himself. "Have Pvts. Lydecker and Jankowski reported in yet, Sir?"

"No. They're with you…aren't they?"

Caje tried to keep the worry out of his voice as he explained about locating the communications center and how he had sent the privates back with the coordinates. When he finished, the lieutenant walked over to the radio and called King Company HQ. He gave Cpt. Jampel the information and asked if there was any word of Jankowski or Lydecker.

After he signed off he said, "Cpt. Jampel's going to call in a fire mission on the communications center for 0400 to try and catch as many of the Krauts as possible before they go out on patrol."

"And Lydecker and Jankowski?"

"Nothing. Even if they'd come back to our lines at some other company, Cpt. Jampel would have been notified."

He offered the scout a cup of lukewarm coffee and waited for the tired soldier to give a complete report.

Caje began slowly. He told how they lost the radio and then located the machine gun nest at the second location they checked. He paused for a moment before continuing. "Lieutenant, I don't know exactly what happened. Everyding went according to plan. De Sarge and Nelson circled around on one side and Jankowski and I came in on de oder. We had good cover fire and I was able to get two grenades in to wipe out de Krauts. Den Billy called for Doc. He'd found de Sarge. He'd been hit in the shoulder, at de base of de neck." He showed Hanley the sergeant's Tommy gun that he had carried all the way back. "It looks like it was a ricochet, but I can't figure out where de shot came from."

"He and Nelson didn't take any fire?"

"Billy says no, and Kirby checked wid everyone. Nobody saw any signs of de Krauts trying to flank them. I just don't know how it happened."

"It must've just been a stray shot. That happens sometimes."

"Yes, Sir. Dat must be it."

"Then what happened?"

Caje explained how he had convinced the sergeant to split the squad to complete the mission and to get him back.

"All right, Caje. I'm going to report into HQ and then check on Saunders. The squad is billeted in the village tonight. Do you want a ride?"

"Yes, dank you, Sir."

They picked up the rest of the squad on the road and the lieutenant dropped them all off at the church.

When he finished up at company HQ, Hanley went immediately to the field hospital. He found Doc walking back and forth in front of the tent.

Not being one to stand on formality, the medic quickly answered the question the lieutenant was going to ask, "The Sarge is still in surgery."

Doc continued to pace. The lieutenant sat on a crate and smoked while they waited. At last, a figure wearing bloody scrubs appeared. He stretched and took a couple of deep breaths of the cool night air.

"Are you the medic who came in with …," he checked his paperwork, "Sgt. Saunders?"

"Yes, Sir," answered Doc. "And this is our platoon leader, Lt. Hanley."

"I'm Dr. Catlin…Saunders is just out of surgery. He's been heavily sedated and I don't expect him to wake up until sometime tomorrow…well, I guess it's already tomorrow…sometime in the afternoon. He's lost a lot of blood, but the wound itself isn't serious, just nasty. I don't expect any complications except for a very ugly scar. Now, why don't you fellas come back after lunch and I'll see if he's awake."

"Doctor, could our medic see him for a minute?" the lieutenant asked.

The doctor smiled to himself. 'People are the same, no matter what the circumstances,' he thought. 'They've got to see for themselves.' "Alright, but like I said, he's unconscious, so just for a minute."

A nurse and two medics were walking around checking on patients, but other than that, there was no movement inside the big tent. The only noise was a combination of soft snores and moans. The doctor led Doc to the back corner. There was another nurse seated between two cots on the other side of the aisle. She was holding the hand of a wounded G.I., talking low to him and stroking his hair. She looked up when the doctor approached and sadly shook her head. Doc knew that look. She would stay with the soldier until he died.

Saunders lay on his cot with his shoulders and head tied down with lengths of gauze to try to restrict his movements. A bottle of blood hung from a pole with the blood flowing through IV tubing into his left arm. Even in the dim light of the corner, it was obvious how pale he looked. But, his face was calm and although dirty and matted with sweat, the wayward tuffs of golden hair that fell on his forehead made him look like the sleeping boy he had been rather than the veteran combat soldier he was.

Doc couldn't restrain himself and immediately checked the Sarge's pulse and felt his forehead for any signs of fever. The doctor watched him and smiled again. The only thing that looked amiss was the sergeant's bare chest. The blanket was only pulled up as far as his waist. All of the way across his chest was a distinct black and blue mark, not very wide, but straight.

The doctor's finger lightly brushed the bruise. "Any idea how this happened?" he asked.

"We think the bullet hit the barrel of his Thompson and ricocheted," Doc responded.

"Well, that would explain a lot. The force of the bullet pushed the weapon into his chest causing this bruise. The damaged bullet then ripped open the top of his shoulder. The wound wasn't the relatively nice, clean groove you'd expect from a glancing rifle shot. He was lucky. If it'd been over a half inch or so it would've hit his jugular vein or carotid artery."

Doc nodded. The Sarge had been lucky. "Are his ribs okay?"

"Yes. He's going to be sore, but I'm pretty sure it's just bruising, nothing cracked or broken. What he needs now is another bottle or two of blood and rest."

Dr. Catlin led the way out of the tent to where the lieutenant was still waiting. After Doc reassured him that Saunders would be fine, the two men got into the officer's jeep. Hanley dropped the medic off at the church before heading back to the CP.

Joey Lydecker awoke to someone yelling at him.

"_PVT. LYDECKER! WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOIN'?"_

He was startled. He raised his head and looked around, trying to see where 1st Sgt. Walters, his Drill Sergeant from Basic, was standing. The sun was already high in the sky. He slightly shifted his position on the limb and winced in pain.

"_I'M TALKIN' TO YOU, PRIVATE. WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOIN'? ANSWER ME!"_

"1st Sgt. Walters…Ah…Ah…Ah thought it would be safer up here in this tree during the night."

"_YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SAFER. WELL, IT AIN'T NIGHT NOW, PRIVATE. GET THE HELL DOWN FROM THERE!"_

"Ah don't know if Ah can, First Sergeant. Ah've been wounded."

"_YOU DON'T KNOW IF YOU CAN. WHAT ARE YOU, A SOLDIER OR A CANDY-ASSED LITTLE GIRL? GET THE HELL DOWN! YOU HAVE A MISSION."_

"But…"

"_DON'T 'BUT' ME, PRIVATE. DIDN'T I TEACH YOU THAT THERE ARE ONLY THREE RESPONSES…YES, SERGEANT, NO, SERGEANT, AND NO EXCUSES, SERGEANT?"_

"Yes, 1st Sgt. Walters."

"_WEREN'T YOU TOLD TO REPORT TO LT. HANLEY AS QUICK AS POSSIBLE?"_

"Yes, 1st Sgt. Walters."

"AN' _DIDN'T YOU TELL YOUR ACTING SQUAD LEADER THAT YOU WOULD CARRY OUT THAT MISSION?"_

"Yes, 1st Sgt. Walters."

"_THEN NO EXCUSES, SOLDIER! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THAT TREE AN' DO YOUR DUTY! DON'T YOU KNOW THAT OTHER MEN ARE DEPENDIN' ON YOU?"_

"Yes, 1st Sgt. Walters."

Lydecker gritted his teeth and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He swung his leg over the bough he had been lying on and grabbed a limb to steady himself before starting the climb down. When he could reach the branch he had pulled himself up with the previous night, he gripped it tightly and lowered himself until he was hanging. He released his hold and fell to the ground, crying out in pain as he landed. He lay on the ground for a long time, until he heard his drill instructor yelling at him again.

"_PVT. LYDECKER, ARE YOU GONNA LIE THERE ALL DAY WAITIN' FOR YOUR MOMMA TO COME AN' WIPE YOUR ASS? GET THE HELL UP AN' CARRY OUT YOUR MISSION!"_

"Yes, 1ST Sgt. Walters."

Lydecker struggled to stand. Swaying slightly, he looked around until he found the sun. West, he had to head west. Minus rifle and helmet, he started walking toward the setting sun, once again repeating the coordinates with every step he took. He tried to maintain a steady course, but as darkness closed in on him, he once again moved in the direction of his latest stagger.

"1st Sgt. Walters, Ah have to stop. Ah can't tell which way to go."

Nobody answered him as he crumpled to the ground.

Caje was up at daybreak. He headed back to the CP, quickly covering the half mile that separated the village and the farm house. When he saw Brockmeyer he asked, "Any word?"

The corporal shook his head. The walk back to his comrades took the scout much longer.

After breakfast, the men were at loose ends. They were stuck in the bombed out village with no passes, so they couldn't leave the immediate area, even if there had been someplace to go. They had no orders from the lieutenant to go back to the perimeter, so they passed the morning washing out socks and getting on each other's nerves. Doc walked over to the field hospital to volunteer and, he hoped, check on Saunders. His help was accepted, but he was assigned to change dressings on the walking wounded outside in the fresh air.

"Caje, whacha gonna do with the Sarge's Tommy gun? Ya gonna just keep carryin' it 'round?" Kirby asked. "The Sarge ain't gonna wanna shoot with it 'cause the inside of the barrel's probably bent."

The Cajun didn't say anything. He had been sitting against the cellar wall, running his hand up and down the barrel of the Thompson for the last hour. Suddenly, he stood.

"Littlejohn, come here." The big private ambled over to where the scout stood. "You're de tree."

Kirby laughed. "Yeah, the big ox looks like a tree."

Both Caje and Littlejohn glared at him. Caje pulled a broken chair over and put it next to Littlejohn. "Dis is de bush," he said. "Billy, where was de Sarge the last time you saw him?"

"Like I told Kirby, the last time I saw him, he was crouched down behind the tree, right next to the bush."

Caje moved into position, holding the Tommy gun as if he were right handed. "If de wall is de machine gun nest, de Krauts can't see me. Kirby and Littlejohn, could you see de Sarge from where you were?"

They both responded, "No."

"Alright, you dree start firing. What's de Sarge going to do?"

Littlejohn said, "Well, he wanted to get a grenade into the Kraut position so he'd…he'd pivot around the bush."

"Right, Littlejohn! He'd go around de bush. He wouldn't move around you because den he'd be out in de open….Billy, you found him lying in back of de bush."

Caje straightened up a bit and started to pivot around the chair. Then he lay down on his back. "Like dis?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Caje got up and stood where he had started to make the pivot. "De Krauts couldn't see him. With de tree dere, a stray shot from them couldn't have hit him. I didn't see him. Billy didn't see him. Littlejohn and Kirby, you didn't see him. Dat leaves Jankowski and Lydecker…"

Kirby spoke up. "I asked 'em. They both said they didn't see Saunders or Billy after they started to move into position."

The cellar was quiet.

Billy wrinkled his brow. "Well…I could see Jankowski, so don't you think he should've been able to see me?"

Caje moved back to crouch beside Littlejohn. He held the Tommy gun at chest height, ready to fire, and pivoted again. He halted where he had stopped before and looked straight ahead, across the cellar.

"He said he didn't fire a shot," said Kirby.

The room was again quiet as each man played the scene Caje had created over and over in his mind.

Finally, Caje said, "I dink he fired one shot…and I sent Joey back wid him."

He ran his hand down the barrel a final time before slinging the Thompson over his shoulder. He left the cellar and once again headed for the CP, but this time the rest of the squad was right behind him.

Ultimately, Doc was able to get in to see Saunders. The sergeant was just waking up and was groggy. The medic held a glass so he could take a few sips of water. Dr. Catlin came over and carefully examined his handy-work. Saunders winced, drawing in a small, sharp breath, but said nothing and otherwise held still as the doctor gently probed the area. When the examination was finished, the doctor straightened up, folded his arms across his chest and looked off into space for a moment. The NCO and the medic exchanged looks.

The doctor moved so that Saunders would have a clear view of him. "Sergeant, this wound is not life-threatening in and of itself. It is, however, in an awkward position, through the muscle right at the base of the neck. Every time you move your head or your shoulder, you disturb it, causing it to bleed and disrupting any healing that has taken place. I've closed it up as best I could, but it is still an open wound and therefore also susceptible to infection. Do you understand what I've just told you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Now I have…or rather we have…two choices. I can sedate you for a week or so, giving the wound time to close and heal…"

Doc said nothing, but he knew the Sarge wouldn't like that.

"What's the other choice, Doctor?" Saunders asked.

"Well, since you understand the importance of keeping your head and shoulder as still as possible, you can agree to do just that. We'll keep the gauze strips in place for a few days to remind you. And anyway, you're not going anywhere until we've replenished the blood you've lost."

"I can do that, Sir."

The sergeant heard the medic sigh with relief. He suddenly felt very tired. He closed his eyes and was asleep before the doctor and the medic even had a chance to quietly slip away.

First Squad trooped into the CP looking grim and determined. For a moment the lieutenant thought Saunders must have taken a turn for the worse…or died.

The Cajun stepped forward. "Sir, we dink Jankowski shot de Sarge and now he's out dere with Lydecker. We need to go out and look for dem."

Hanley was stunned by the idea that a soldier would try to kill his squad leader. "I thought it was a ricochet. What makes you think Pvt. Jankowski shot Saunders?"

Although the men all started to talk at once, the lieutenant was still able to understand the essential points they were making.

He interrupted them saying, "But, you have no real proof."

Caje thought back to when Jankowski had challenged him to prove he had left the radio behind on purpose. "Sir, it's de only explanation, unless you believe Billy shot him..."

Billy started to sputter out a denial, but Caje added, "…and nobody dinks dat."

"Alright, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. I've got to stay here. Company is going to try to move up before the Krauts can get reorganized after this morning's artillery barrage. We'll look for them later."

"Later might be too late!…Sir." Kirby said. "Caje can lead the squad. Ya need someone to confirm that the communications center got destroyed an' to do a reconnaissance of the area. That should be us."

'Kirby volunteering to go out on a mission!' Hanley shook his head in amazement at the thought of it.

Littlejohn thought he was saying 'No,' so he added, "Nobody knows the area better than we do, Lieutenant."

But, in reality, Hanley was just as worried as the squad was. "Alright, I'll check with Cpt. Jampel."

It was still dark when Lydecker awoke. His side ached, but beyond that, he was so thirsty. He couldn't even produce any saliva to moisten his dry cracked lips. Holding his left hand tightly against his side, he struggled to sit up. Then he leaned forward until his knees were almost against his chest. It would be so easy to just lie back down and give up. He was so tired. He closed his eyes and just sat. After several minutes he heard someone call his name.

Joey smiled and looked around trying to find Uncle, the Choctaw Indian he had spent so much time with when he was growing up. Uncle had taught him the skills necessary to survive in the wild.

"_Joey, you must concentrate. Listen to the sounds around you."_

"Ah can't, Uncle. Ah'm too tired."

"_Joey, listen to your breathing and your heartbeat. Concentrate. Remove those sounds from your mind."_

"Ah know, Uncle…but it's too hard."

"_Joey, you must do it. Now concentrate."_

"Alright, Uncle, Ah'll try."

"_Joey, now listen to the wind in the trees, the song of the birds, the buzz of the insects. Concentrate. Remove those sounds from your mind." _

"Yes, Uncle…Ah've done it."

"_Now, Joey, listen. What is left to hear?"_

Joey listened and then sat up straight. "Water…Ah hear running water."

He grabbed a close-by sapling and pulled himself to his feet. With wobbling steps he headed toward the sound. It seemed to take a long time to reach the stream. He stopped to rest, leaning against tree trunks, several times. At last the stream was within sight. He stumbled down the bank, and staggered the last few steps to the water's edge. It was no longer the rushing torrent it had been several days before. Now, it was just a gentle meandering creek. He collapsed to his knees and leaned forward to scoop up some of the precious liquid, only to fall forward into the water. Pushing his right hand against the stream-bed, he raised his head and eagerly sucked up the cold water. He pushed himself over until he was laying on his back, half in and half out of the stream, looking up at the clear blue sky.

"Uncle, Ah did it."

As the stream gently caressed him, Joey closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

At daybreak First Squad was assembled in front of the CP. The men were solemn; there was no light-hearted banter this morning.

The lieutenant conferred with Caje to make sure he understood the mission Cpt. Jampel had approved. They were to confirm that the communications center was destroyed and that the Krauts hadn't set up another machine gun nest in the same location the squad had previously cleared.

"Make sure you complete the mission."

"Yes, Sir, we will."

"Where are you going to start looking?"

"Lydecker would've headed due west when dey left us. We'll start where we separated and move west from dere."

The scout turned around and scanned his men. "Kirby, de rear. Nelson, de radio. Let's go."

The squad made good progress, although they once again spotted Kraut patrols. Not looking for a fight, they took cover each time to avoid contact. The stream was back to its normal flow, so they quickly crossed it and continued on toward their first objective.

Caje cautiously approached the clearing, but found no trace of further Kraut activity. He signaled the rest of the squad to advance and they walked over to what was left of the machine gun nest. After the Cajun reported in to Lt. Hanley, it was time to test his theory.

"Billy, go over to where de Sarge was before Kirby opened up. Littlejohn, you go to where Lydecker gave cover fire. Try to spot Billy. Kirby and Doc, come wid me."

Caje positioned Doc where he had been and led Kirby to where he had left Jankowski. He returned to the machine gun nest.

Once everyone was in place, he hollered, "BILLY, PIVOT LIKE DE SARGE WOULD HAVE!"

The squad came back together at the spot where Saunders had fallen. Blood soaked bandages still littered the area, the silent evidence of Doc's resolute efforts to save the NCO's life.

"I couldn't see Billy from de Kraut position...Littlejohn?"

The big private shook his head.

"Doc?"

"No, Ah couldn't see anyone."

"Kirby?"

All eyes were focused on the BAR man. "I seen Billy crouched down by the tree an' I seen him pivot. Jankowski woulda had a clear shot."

"I guess dat settles it."

Everyone nodded in agreement. They stood there for a moment, each man silently reviewing the short time Jankowski had been with the squad.

When they finally started to move out, Billy said to his friend, "He must be crazy."

Littlejohn nodded in agreement.

Caje once again felt the pangs of guilt for having sent him back with Lydecker.

The squad reached the spot where the two young soldiers had been dispatched as runners. Leaving the rest of the men to wait, Kirby and Caje carefully worked their way forward until they were positioned where Caje had spied the farm house. The artillery barrage had turned it and the barn into smoking ruins. Both of the troop transport trucks and the staff car had been hit and all that remained of them were twisted pieces of metal. The Americans slowly worked their way around the area, but saw no signs of life.

Once they had made their way back to the waiting squad, Caje turned on the radio to call in.

"Checkmate King Two, dis is White Rook. Checkmate King Two, dis is White Rook, over."

"White Rook, this is Checkmate King Two, over."

"Checkmate King Two, we reached de second objective. Target destroyed, over."

"Roger. And the lost lambs? Over."

"Will contact you when…" Caje almost choked on the words, but he managed to say, "…we find de lost lambs. Over and out."

Caje called the squad together. "We'll head west from here, but spread out so we're about twenty paces apart. Watch for Krauts. Let's go."

They had traveled about a mile when the scout suddenly froze. There, fifty yards ahead of him lay the body of an American soldier.

"Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" the Cajun cried.

The men came back together and stared at the lifeless form ahead of them. Even from that distance, they could see the bayonet sticking out of the dead soldier's belly. As they slowly approached, they could see the rifle with a fixed bayonet clutched in his hands lying across his chest.

Suddenly, Billy broke the silence. "That's not Joey. It's Jankowski!"

Caje rushed forward to get to the corpse. The body was already starting to decompose, but it was obvious Billy was right. It was Jankowski's face, but that face was contorted, not in fear or in pain, but in what appeared to be rage.

"This doesn't make any sense. That has to be Joey's bayonet, but why would Lydecker kill Jankowski? And why's Jankowski's bayonet on his rifle?" asked Littlejohn.

Kirby picked up the rifle that Jankowski still held in death.

"Doc, look at this. Does this look like dried blood to ya?" He pointed to the bayonet and held it for Doc to examine. "What do ya think?"

"Yeah, it does," replied the medic after inspecting the blade. "Joey's probably wounded."

The rest of the men gathered around to get a closer look.

After Caje examined the bayonet, he said, "Okay, we've got to find Lydecker. He can tell us what happened. Look around for which way he headed."

The men fanned out, looking for some sign that would indicate where Joey had gone.

After a few minutes of searching, Billy called out, "There's blood over here."

The scout took the lead, carefully following the trail of blood droplets. It didn't head west, but did seem to be going in a relatively straight line. Eventually, he came to a halt and indicated an empty sulfa packet and a bandage wrapper. There was no more blood to follow, but Caje slowly walked around the area. He spotted the broken vegetation and disturbed soil that indicated someone had recently passed through.

"He headed west from here."

It was slow going. At times Caje thought he had lost the trail and had to back track. Then the blood droplets began to appear again. A little later they found a canteen covered in bloody fingerprints. Littlejohn picked it up and shook it.

"There's still water in it. He must've just dropped it."

The trail no longer headed west, but began to meander. Caje stopped. He was certain he had lost the way when up ahead he spotted a helmet. He moved forward to pick it up and then spotted a rifle leaning against a tree. Kirby looked at the ground beneath the tree and called Doc over, pointing down. Doc knelt and shook his head.

"That's a lot of blood. Ah think he might've lain here for a while before moving on." Doc's face was grim. He realized there was a good chance that when they finally found Lydecker, he would be dead.

"Caje, which way?" asked Kirby.

"West…He headed west again."

The trail was easier to follow this time as the blood droplets were more regular, so Caje was able to pick up the pace. Again, the path started out in a westerly direction, but after a while it began to move erratically.

In time they reached another spot stained by a large quantity of blood. From there, however, the trail didn't head west, but almost due north. Caje led the way, not knowing what he would find, but thinking the end of their search was at hand. Abruptly, he stopped.

"Listen. Do you hear water?" He pulled out his map and examined it. "It's de same stream we crossed. It runs drough here."

Caje stopped trying to follow the trail and instead headed straight for the sound of the water with the rest of the squad close behind him. As they came to the clearing at the bank, they spotted Lydecker lying in the water. Doc wanted to rush to his side, but Caje pulled him back. He and Kirby cautiously circled the area to make sure it wasn't a trap. When they were satisfied they were alone, the squad moved forward.

They gathered around the young soldier, expecting to find a dead man, but instead were greeted by a soft moan when Doc touched his neck to feel for a pulse.

"Ah think lying in the cold water saved him," he said.

Littlejohn slipped his hands beneath Joey's knees and shoulders and gently lifted him out of the stream. He carried him back into the shelter of the trees that lined the bank. Doc opened his blood soaked field jacket and shirt to find the bandage that had been applied two days earlier. He pulled supplies from his rucksack and set about cleaning and dressing the wound. Caje told Billy and Kirby to take security and Littlejohn to make a litter.

Lydecker's eyelids flickered open and he looked up to see Doc. The medic spoke to him quietly and confidently, and Joey weakly nodded. Caje, hearing Doc's voice, moved over to Lydecker's side and the private turned his head and looked at him.

"Caje," he slurred, "Sorry. Ah let y'all down."

Caje replied with a small smile. "It's alright, Joey. You just take it easy. Doc will fix you up."

Lydecker turned his head as if he heard a noise off to his other side.

"_WELL, PRIVATE, HAVE YOU COMPLETED YOUR MISSION?"_

Lydecker responded, "No, 1st Sgt. Walters."

Doc and Caje looked at each other.

"Isn't dat de name of de Drill Sergeant he told us about?"

"Yeah, he's delirious."

"_WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?"_

"No excuses, First Sergeant…no excuses." The words came almost as a whisper as he closed his eyes.

"Joey, Ah'm gonna give you a shot of morphine."

Lydecker opened his eyes.

"_Joey, you found the water. That's a good boy."_

"Thanks, Uncle." He said as he drifted into a drug-induced sleep.

Caje called in to the CP and told Lt. Hanley that the lost lambs had been found and the squad was headed home. However, he gave no details.

Hanley looked up from the map he was studying when he heard someone knock. As Caje entered the room he asked, "Well?"

"Doc took Lydecker directly to de field hospital, Sir. He's probably headed for surgery."

"Surgery?

"He'd been bayoneted. Jankowski is dead."

The lieutenant sat looking at the scout, trying to absorb all of the information that had just been so succinctly relayed to him. First, his friend and best NCO had been shot…now another soldier bayoneted…and the probable cause of all this mayhem, dead.

"Did you men kill him?"

"No, Sir. He was already dead. Lydecker must've done it, but we don't know what happened. He was in bad shape when we found him and unable to tell us anyding."

"Alright, I'll get a statement from him once he's able to talk. Anything else?"

"No, Sir."

"Dismissed."

Caje gave a salute and left the CP. He headed back to the village to find the rest of his squad mates.

The lieutenant continued to stare off into space. It was bad enough when he had men killed by the Krauts, but when you don't even know who your enemy is…how could he make sense of that?

"BROCK…"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"First Squad is in the village. Take my jeep and get them back here, on the double."

"Yes, Sir."

The corporal picked up Caje as he was walking back to the village. They found Doc outside the field hospital and the rest of the squad in the cellar where they were billeted.

When the squad was assembled, Lt. Hanley told them to find a seat. "Alright, from the beginning…"

While Hanley listened, Doc, Caje, Littlejohn, Kirby and Nelson told of each incident involving Jankowski, his initial attempt to tease Lydecker, his constant questioning of the Sarge's orders and then outright disobeying the order to carry the radio, how he dragged his rifle in the dirt and his recent fit when he was partnered with Littlejohn to dig a foxhole, all of which Saunders had had to deal with. How he tried to claim the mattress and how they had taken care of that themselves. And finally, Kirby told how he failed to provide security at the machine gun nest. They included every smirk and derogatory comment Jankowski had made, cataloging his entire time with the squad.

As the men talked, the lieutenant was amazed that he had been unaware of how much disruption the private had caused in such a short period of time. He recalled that Saunders had told him shortly after Jankowski joined the squad that he needed to be straightened out.

Then Caje told how they'd reenacted where everyone was when they attacked the Kraut machine gun nest and how the disruptive private was the only one who was in a position to have shot the Sarge. Kirby talked about finding Jankowski's body, with Lydecker's bayonet stuck in his belly and how he was still clutching his rifle with the fixed and bloody bayonet. Doc ended with a description of Lydecker's wound.

Through it all, the officer listened in silence. He didn't want to interrupt the soldiers with any questions that might cause them to clam up, but he needn't have worried. They were determined to rid themselves of the shadow the private had cast over the squad.

When they finished, Hanley said, "I'll speak with Lydecker to find out what happened between him and Jankowski."

Doc responded, "He just had surgery. The doctor doesn't expect him to regain consciousness until sometime mid-morning."

"Alright, I'll talk with him then. You're dismissed."

It was mid-afternoon and both the sergeant and the private were dozing peacefully when the lieutenant arrived at the field hospital. Dr. Catlin walked over to join him. After they talked for a few minutes, the doctor gently awakened Lydecker. He spoke to the young soldier for several minutes as he checked his wound and vital signs to make sure he was awake and coherent.

Then the doctor asked Hanley, "Do you want the sergeant to be awakened?"

The lieutenant considered it for a moment before responding. "Yes, I think Sgt. Saunders would want to hear this."

Dr. Catlin roused the sergeant, and then reminded Lt. Hanley, "Ten minutes. They both need their rest."

Saunders carefully turned his head a little so that he could see Lydecker and keep an eye on his soldier.

After Dr. Catlin left, Hanley sat at the foot of the bed and said, "Private, I need to talk to you about what happened after you and Pvt. Jankowski headed back with the coordinates."

Lydecker looked at his sergeant. "You mean because Ah kilt him."

"I need to know what happened."

Joey looked again to his sergeant, and Saunders quietly said, "Go ahead, Lydecker. Tell the lieutenant exactly what happened."

"Yes, Sergeant." Lydecker swallowed, and began his tale. "Caje gave Jankowski and me the coordinates and we headed west, back toward our lines like he told us to. We hadn't gone but a mile when Jankowski said he wanted to rest. Ah told him we had to keep moving and he said Ah wasn't giving him orders." Joey paused and licked his lips.

Lt. Hanley asked him, "Lydecker, you okay? Do you want a drink of water?"

"Yes, Sir." Hanley got up, lifted the private's shoulders and held the glass for him to drink. "Thank you, Sir."

The private closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts, "There was this noise and Ah turned around. He had drawn and fixed his bayonet. He started shouting. Sir, honest, it was like he was a crazy person. He said he'd shot the sergeant and he was gonna finish the job, and that he was gonna kill me, and Caje, too.

"Then everything happened so fast. Ah was never so scared in mah whole life. He lunged and caught me in the side with his bayonet. Ah don't remember exactly what happened, but we fought and he must've fallen 'cause Ah remember him getting up off the ground and reaching to pick up his rifle. Ah knew if he got it, he'd shoot me for sure, so Ah drew mah bayonet and jumped at him…When Ah got up, he was dead."

Lt. Hanley waited a moment to be sure the private wasn't going to add anything before he asked, "Did he say why he shot Sgt. Saunders?"

Lydecker gave a small laugh and shook his head. "Sir, he was just talking crazy. He said the sergeant was ordering him 'round and picking on him." He looked over at Saunders. "Ah told him that sergeants are supposed to order you 'round, but that just seemed to make him madder, so Ah didn't try to argue with him."

The lieutenant looked at Saunders. The NCO didn't say anything. He just gave a little shake of his head in disbelief.

"And you, why did he want to kill you?" asked Lt. Hanley.

"Because Ah was trying to be a good soldier, an' he said that made him look bad."

"And Caje?"

"Just that he was gonna rid the squad of annoying people…that it was his duty to rid the squad of annoying people. That's what he said, Lieutenant. It didn't make any sense." Lydecker shook his head again and looked questioningly at Hanley. "None of it made any sense, Sir."

"Well, it's obvious you acted in self-defense. I'll submit my report to Cpt. Jampel. I'm sure that will be the end of it."

Lt. Hanley stood and looked at the two soldiers. He wanted to say something to explain Jankowski or to put their minds at ease, but he was at a loss for words. He, too, could only shake his head in disbelief. As he turned to leave, all he could say was, "Get some rest…both of you…that's an order."

Once the lieutenant had gone, Joey gave a soft groan as he shifted his position. "Sergeant, what was wrong with him? Was he crazy?"

"Damned if I know, Lydecker. Damned if I know."

Later that evening Lt. Hanley met again with First Squad and filled them in on what had happened between Lydecker and Jankowski.

"But why?" asked Billy.

"'Cause he was nuts, pure an' simple. I knew he had a screw loose the first time I seen him," answered Kirby.

Littlejohn rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, there was something wrong with him," Doc said, "but still…"

(1) "And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother's keeper?" Genesis 4:9

(2) The rules, 1st Sgt. Walters, Uncle, and leaving the radio are all from "Private Joseph Lydecker Part 1: Nine Rules."

(3) Reference to 'The Casket' _Combat!_ season 4.


End file.
